Viktoria POV
I shake my head before Elon even finishes his sentence. “No. The last time was the last time,” I say firmly, clutching the strap of my bag like he might be interested in snatching it too. “I told Marco, and he agreed. So leave me alone.”
Elon exhales through his nose, the way people do when they’re trying to hold their temper.
“It doesn’t matter what you told him,” he says, stepping closer. “Lucille asked for you. His seizures are strong this time, and he’s unconscious again. He needs you, Viktoria.”
My pulse skips. A cold dread crawls up my neck. “He took my herbs,” I whisper, more to myself than to him. “He said he doesn’t need me to help her anymore.”
Elon’s eyes narrow, like he’s putting pieces together in his head. “You switched the herbs, Viktoria,” he says quietly
